Murdoch Mysteries: Two Lives, One Body
by KotOR-Luvr
Summary: Henry knew there was something off about the new Constable at the Station House, but he didn't know exactly what. His suspicions were proven to be true after they were patrolling at the Harbour and James Quilleran got stabbed by a mugger. In an attempt to help stop the bleeding, Henry discovers a terrible secret, one that puts his loyalty and his morals to the test.
1. A New Constable

**A/N: I have been making fan art of Murdoch Mysteries and the majority of it involves an OC I had created. Originally, this idea wasn't supposed to even leave my head, but here it is on FFN. This chapter will have quite a few time jumps involved in it, so my apologies if it seems choppy. The end of this chapter also leaves off on a half-note cuz I didn't want the chapter to drag on and on. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy!**

 **Chapter Genre: General**

 **Chapter Rating: K**

 **Rating Content: No Warnings Apply**

* * *

"Gentlemen, if I could have your attention for just a short moment."

Immediately, everyone halted in their activities, their heads turning to Inspector Thomas Brackenreid. A young man was at his side, setting a box on top of an empty desk. Brackenreid patted his shoulder. "This man here is James Quilleran, a new constable joining us."

Henry's brows furrowed. 'Quilleran'? Wasn't that one of the more notorious family names in Toronto?

"He's a fresh one, but I'm sure you lads can show him how we do it here at Station House number four."

The man smiled. "I'm certain there's plenty for me to learn here, sir."

James was fairly short compared to Brackenreid, reaching to just past his shoulder. He was pretty thin, too. Basically, he was just small. His dirty blonde hair was incredibly short, giving it an almost spiky appearance and his eyes were big and soft, their colour resembling that of rusted metal.

He looked far too innocent and delicate to be a constable, Henry thought.

Brackenreid made a face. "Is that all you're going to say?" He joked. "Why not tell us a bit about yourself?"

James shrugged. "Not much to say, sir. I was born in Alberta then raised in Quebec and I'm the only son in my family." He then added, cheekily, "I also happen to like puppies."

They all laughed.

Brackenreid patted him on the shoulder again. "Well, I'm certain we'll learn a bit more about you with time. Now, just get yourself settled in, there will most likely be work for you shortly."

He left the young man to his devices then. As the other constables resumed their work, some passing by would shake James' hand and welcome him to the Station House.

Henry wasn't quite as open about James. He really didn't know what to think about him. "George, isn't James Quilleran the son of Leonard and Mary Quilleran?"

George glanced at James before looking back at Henry. "Yes, I believe so. But I wouldn't judge him based on a family name. Like in Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_ , "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet'."

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Isn't that a romance, George?"

He nodded but held up a finger. "Yes, but the meaning of that quote is that if Romeo was not a Montague, there would be no reason for him to be hated by the Capulets." He then pointed to James, who was organizing the various items from the box he carried in onto his desk. "So, if James did not have the last name Quilleran, we would have no reason to judge him. So why should we, now?"

"But his father was a murderer and his mother was sent to the asylum..."

George sighed in exasperation. "You're missing the point, Henry! Just because his last name is Quilleran, doesn't mean he's like his mother or his father. He might have wanted to be a constable just for that very reason; he might want to try and change things in his family."

"Close enough."

They both jumped almost right out of their seats. James was looking them both over, an eyebrow raised and his lips drawn in a smirk. George immediately started to ramble. "My apologies, it's rude to talk about someone behind their backs-"

"It's alright. My name tends to get a few heads turned." He shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, make a long story short, I'm wanting to change the reputation of the Quilleran name. I also need to put food on the table, which I'm sure you'll both understand."

George nodded. "Of course, it's perfectly understandable." Remembering his manners, he stood from his seat and shook James' hand. "Welcome to Station House number four, by the way! I'm George Crabtree and this here is my good friend, Henry Higgins."

He stood and shook James' hand. "Pleased to meet you." He said with a smile.

James straightened out his jacket and nodded to the Inspector's office. "That's Inspector Brackenreid's office, yeah?"

"Yes, that would be correct." George confirmed.

He nodded his head in thanks. "Excellent."

It wasn't until James started walking to Brackenreid's office that they noticed the small envelope in his hand. George payed no mind to it, of course, and resumed his duties, comparing fingerprints found on a knife to the loads of other fingerprints found in other cases. "If only there was some sort of machine to do this work for us." George sighed.

Henry raised an eyebrow. "How? How could a machine compare one set of fingerprints to another? And how could it tell the difference?"

He looked over the two fingerprint cards and at Henry, casting him an annoyed glance. "You always manage to cast a cloud over the sunshine, don't you?" He mumbled.

Henry then sat back down in his own seat, picking up the magnifying glass and closely inspecting the fingerprints. "Just asking some logical questions, George."

/ / /

"Sir, with all due respect, does this really need to be done?" He called out.

"Yes, James, I'm afraid so."

James shivered as he felt something move against his leg and he cast a glance at George. "Does this happen often?"

George nodded and sighed. "Yes, it does. All part of the job."

As it turned out, the detective of Station house four, William Murdoch, had been working on a case and he had a clue as to where a body may have been hidden. At first, he was just going to take George and Henry, but then Brackenreid had suggested taking James along with them. "It'll be a good experience for him, Murdoch." He stated. "Give him a bit of a taste of what goes on in Station House number four!"

James, of course, was excited to see how things worked. However, he was not very pleased when Murdoch had taken them to a swampy pond and he told them that the body had rocks tied to it and was sunken somewhere within the water. They had been 'fishing' for not even half an hour and James was already getting edgy.

They had to strip out of their regular uniforms, of course, which James seemed almost reluctant to do. The instant the uniform was off, he jumped straight into the water head-first (which, of course, resulted in him getting a face full of mud and algae).

Henry laughed at the two of them. "Afraid of a little bit of water, boys?"

James splashed him. "Let's see you come in here and swim around for a bit, eh?"

Henry brushed the water from his face, a smirk still on his lips. "You need someone in the boat to lift the body out."

James and George sighed and rolled their eyes and, taking deep breaths, they ducked under the water again and swam around, searching for the body. It was a lot harder than it sounded, of course. Mixes of algae and kelp covered the rocks and hung around in the water. Whenever one of them moved, dirt and mud would be kicked around. And then, of course, since it was getting closer to evening and it was cooler outside, there was a higher possibility of fish being in the water that would be more than willing to take a bite out of either of them. "Or snakes!" George had exclaimed. "I heard that there are venomous snakes that can swim in the water."

"Not in Toronto, George." The Detective had corrected him.

As they swam through the water, they could see various fish picking at floating bits in the water. James quickly tapped George on his shoulder and pointed up before surfacing. George followed soon after. "What is it?"

"I think we might be close to the body." James explained. "You saw the stuff they were nibbling on, yes? What if it's the skin off of the body?"

"Well, it could just be bits of bread or maybe even bugs." George countered. "Fish don't eat meat."

James made a face. "Who would be feeding the fish out in the middle of nowhere?"

When George didn't respond, James dove back under the water, swimming over to where the fish were feasting. James grabbed at one of the floating pieces and showed it to George, who had swam up behind him. They immediately started looking around, hoping to find the body somewhere within the area.

James felt something moving against his leg again and, this time, he looked to see what it was. He half expected to see a fish, or at the very least a frog. No, instead, he found the slender, waving body of a snake slowly slithering up his leg. He screamed, which sounded muffled under the water, and started swimming in the opposite direction whilst kicking his leg, hoping the snake would be shaken off. As he was swimming around, he failed to realize he was getting closer to the bottom of the pond.

He checked his leg to make sure the snake was gone. seeing no signs of it, he was about to return to the surface for air before something gleamed in his eye. Shielding them, he looked around to see something shining in the water. Curious, he slowly approached it, hoping it was what they had been looking for.

Upon closer inspection, James saw that it was a bracelet that had been reflecting the light. He tried picking it up but it was stuck. On something. He didn't know what, but it was something. He tried pulling it again, but a lot harder, and he heard loud _snap_ as he pulled at the bracelet.

It was still stuck. James, still hanging onto the bracelet, took a closer look at what it was attached to. It looked almost like a log, but why would someone put a bracelet on a log?

The sudden burning in his lungs reminded him of his need for air and, releasing his grip on the bracelet, he swam back up to the surface of the water, gasping heavily and wiping his hair back.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone swim quite that fast, James." George commented.

James rolled his eyes and called over to William. "Sir, was the victim reported to have a silver bracelet around their arm?"

He nodded. "Yes. Have you found the bracelet?"

"I think I may have found the body."

/ / /

The slap on his back made him jump in surprise. "Not bad for your first minor assignment, Quilleran."

"Thank you, sir."

"And, uh," Brackenreid leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. "I looked over the letter. I completely understand. She also confirmed it and that there are things she wanted to keep an eye on. Doctor Ogden will continue to be your personal physician unless stated otherwise by her."

James nodded his appreciation. "Thank you for understanding."

Brackenreid patted his shoulder. "Good. Now, with that out of the way, there's another little job for you."

/ / /

"Don't worry too much. First time I came to Station House number Four, he didn't go too easy on me either."

James sighed and rolled his shoulders. "I don't mind the work, really. It gives me something to do."

Brackenreid had put him on duty with the Detective, walking around at least one quarter of Toronto in order to estimate the time it took to walk from one point to another. As it turned out, James was almost the exact height of the killer. He didn't think it would matter, but a taller person results in longer legs, and a shorter person resulted in shorter legs.

And now, he was on patrol with Crabtree. Which meant more walking (of course, the Detective and Inspector were gracious enough to give him a solid half-hour break before going out on patrol). They were around the harbour, hence why they were patrolling together rather than apart.

Although the law had (technically) won, the harbour was still dangerous for coppers. They had earned their trust, but not their respect. Brackenreid had said that he wasn't about to take chances (that, and nobody else really wanted to patrol around the harbour, anyhow).

The full moon provided enough light for the two coppers. The moonlight reflected off of the stone paths, thanks to the damp air provided by the constant mist from the waters. The occasional street lamp was helpful as well.

"Do you not have much to do at home?" George asked, kicking at a loose pebble on the rocky ground.

James shrugged. "Not really. The only reason I really took this job is so I can provide for myself. Hard to get a normal job with the name 'Quilleran', nowadays. No thanks to my father."

George hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. "Uh, if you don't mind me asking, is there any... that is to say, do you have any resentments towards your father?"

James sighed, his breath coming out in a white puff of air. "In a sense, I do. He gave the Quillerans a bad reputation. And don't blame my mother for the Quilleran name either. She wasn't insane. My father had made her out to be that way."

"Well, why don't you tell the asylum or the law that?"

James made a face. "The child of a murderer and a lunatic, telling the law that my mother wasn't insane and my father made it up. Do you think they'd believe me?"

"My apologies, I didn't really think of it that way."

"Of course you didn't. Not very many people would." James walked a bit closer to George, dropping his voice down slightly. "Let me tell you something, Crabtree, something that can be of great controversy. The time we're in, is a time where rights are easily given as they are taken. We're in a time where you're judged based on where you come from, globally or locally. They can also judge you based on a name." He gestured around them. "Here in Toronto, the name 'Quilleran' sends shivers down people's spines. Because of my father and mother, they expect their children to be the same, therefore, I am not trusted. I was lucky enough to even get a job as a Constable. All the other Station Houses had denied my requests, and Station House Four was the last on my list. If it wasn't for your Inspector accepting my application, I'm certain I would be out on the streets in a few days."

George was shocked. Although he was a very curious and inquisitive man, he never once thought how a name could have _that much_ affect on a whole city. It made sense, though, once he thought about it. Judgment was a constant in this time, especially when it came to families and their legacies. "I never really thought of it that way." He said.

James sniffed. "Nobody ever does. And the ones that do, are considered crazy. That's why so many people need to keep a low profile and keep their mouths shut, lest they end up in the loony-bin or in the gallows."


	2. Found

**A/N: That was just sort of an introductory chapter (that left on a half note and trust me, it won't be like that all the time) to James. We don't know too much about him, but more will come later on. I also tried looking up more into Higgin's past, and I don't know if he was raised in Newfoundland or not... gotta find that out. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy! (IMPORTANT: THERE ARE NOTES AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER! I don't do that anymore, but something needs to be explained and I can't do that at the beginning of the chapter lest it be spoiled).**

 **IlluminatiGirl: OMG Thanks so much for the review, hon! I was half-expecting the first chapter to just be sitting there for a while, but I suddenly got a notification in my email and *BOOM*, your review was right there! Thanks so much!**

 **Romantic Nerd: Thanks so much, hon!**

 **Chapter Genre: Friendship, Mystery**

 **Chapter Rating: K+**

 **Rating Content: Brief Mild Language, Brief Mild Scenes of Blood, Mild Scenes of Violence**

* * *

He flopped down onto his bed, groaning loudly into the pillow. He attempted to stretch out, but the confines of his uniform kept him almost too restricted as far as movement went. Sighing, he removed himself from the bed and proceeded to take off his uniform. First the jacket. That _blasted_ jacket. Why did it have to be so form fitting, anyways? And the belt. Just accentuated form more than anything else.

He then proceeded to remove his leggings. They weren't bad, but with the summer heat, they were almost insufferable. At least they were baggy and didn't reveal much, so he didn't have to wear anything underneath.

It was the undershirt that really bothered him. It was baggy and it hung right off his shoulder. It was too exposing. Especially for him. Hence why he dove into the water so quickly earlier day. He didn't want to be found, or it would surely end him.

If it wasn't for the damn bindings, it would be so much more tolerable to wear the Constable uniform. But no, he had no choice but to wear bindings. If he didn't, he would be found quicker than he could count to three!

He slowly removed the bindings around his chest, sighing contentedly as he finally felt able to breathe. As _she_ finally felt able to breathe. The bindings made her breasts almost feel sore, but they at least got the job done.

She went to her closet and pulled out a long-sleeved shirt and some simple pants, slipping them over her supple body with ease. She couldn't stand wearing a corset _or_ dresses. If she had to be out in public as herself, only then would she dress so formally. She then proceeded to the bathroom, where she cleaned her face from the sweat she had gathered throughout the day. Although she had to be a man, there was no harm in staying clean. At all, really. Besides, going to bed fresh and clean would lead to better sleep. As her brother, James, always used to tell her.

Lucy Quilleran breathed and looked straight into the mirror, and into her own eyes. "To society, you are a woman. A creature. Your mother's daughter." She recited.

A knock came at her door and she was shaken from her thoughts. "Coming!" She called out.

Her home wasn't exactly the best, but it was the most she could afford, considering she barely had any money when she first moved to Toronto. There was a small dining area right next to the kitchen, and a living area with a fireplace just across from the dining area. Her bedroom was just through the door straight from the main entrance. The floorboards were old, but they were warm and they didn't squeak under her weight. The walls could use some work, as the wallpaper was beginning to peel, but use a little bit of adhesive and they'd look good as new. It was a small, humble home, but it was more than enough for her.

She opened the door and smiled. "Hello, Julia."

Julia Ogden smiled. "Good to see you're all in one piece, Lucy. I heard William gave you quite the assignment today."

Lucy shrugged. "All part of the job." She gestured with her arm. "Come on in."

"Julia looked around the tiny home, placing herself down on the couch by the fireplace. "This is actually a very nice home, Lucy."

She chuckled and placed herself beside the doctor. "Compared to the home you live in?"

"Well, it's not what _I'm_ used to, but it's still lovely. Very comfortable, as well."

"Thank you."

Julia removed her gloves from her hands and placed them on her lap. "So, aside from the assignment William had given, how was your first day at work?"

Lucy rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, a lot of turned heads thanks to the family name. Had to go swimming as well in search of a body. Then there was patrolling around the Harbour. George and I managed to stop one mugger, but other than that, it was pretty quiet."

"Any physical ailments?"

"The bindings!" She immediately stated. "They are tight like the blazes and it can be somewhat difficult to breathe with them on."

"Well, how tightly do you wear them?"

"Tight enough so my chest at least looks flat." She responded. "Had to strip to my undershirt today; it's a bit baggy and it hangs off my shoulder. It's somewhat revealing. And if the bindings aren't tight enough, and I end up in my undershirt, I could be exposed."

Julia laughed. "If a shirt is baggy, I doubt it would be _that_ revealing. But, if it makes you feel better, I can try and make the shirt a bit more tighter, but you'll be without one for a few days. The Constables coats are also not as revealing as one would think. You shouldn't have the bindings so tight, anyhow; it's not very healthy."

" _Corsets_ aren't healthy, Julia." Lucy said. "I'd rather have smothered breasts than a smothered rib-cage. Or a weak spine."

Julia sighed. She had known Lucy for quite a few years, and she knew she could be a stubborn woman. But as a doctor, she needed to make sure that Lucy was taking proper care of herself. "At least loosen them a little bit. If you have trouble breathing by just wearing it, you could get into a lot of trouble. Choking and drowning, for example. Or if you're caught in a fire."

She nodded. "Alright, I'll try and loosen it a bit."

"Excellent. It'll be a lot more comfortable for you, Lucy. And safe."

"I'm a copper now, Julia. Safety is tossed out the window, at this rate. For both as myself and as James."

/ / /

James breathed in deeply through his mouth and exhaled through his nose. Julia was right; it _was_ a lot easier to breathe! Although he felt at least a little bit more exposed with the bindings being loosened, they weren't as revealing as he thought they would be.

Once he had returned to the Station, Brackenreid had assigned him some desk work. "There will be some field work for you later on. But for now, we just need you to go through these files. We need to know anything we can about recent murders in Toronto."

"Is it about our killer, sir?" James asked.

"Possibly. Gerald Horowitz could be our man. There is a possibility that he's dead, but we don't know for sure."

James gave a quick glance at the box of folders on his desk. "Is there anything I should be looking for specifically, sir?"

Brackenreid gave a light shrug. "Gerald was a serial killer, so look for killings that had happened close to one another. Also, he would cut an 'X' into the victim's chest and would put black ink into their eyes. Look for that as well as any possible similarities between the murders."

That had been almost three hours ago. Not only was it past noon, but James was starting to get hungry and his legs were becoming stiff. He had forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, so that was most likely the reason for his current state of hunger. But he couldn't give up just yet; he felt as if he was so close to figuring it out, he could feel it!

His tummy, on the other hand, had other ideas. It grumbled loudly, almost as if it were complaining. He ignored the sound and continued to read the various news articles, which were spread out all across his desk. He felt like there was some sort of connection between the articles, almost like a web of sorts, but he couldn't figure out what was going on.

"What's all this mumbo-jumbo, then?"

James didn't even look up from his desk. "'Organized Chaos', sir. I know exactly where everything is, but it looks like a mess to everyone else."

Brackenreid sighed, placing his hands in his pockets. "It _is_ a mess." He muttered.

James pulled another folder out of the box and inspected its contents. More newspaper articles and a few photos of murder victims. "Is there something you need, sir?" He asked, placing an article down on the desk.

"I haven't seen you move since you got here this morning, Quilleran." He said. "You should take a break and eat. Go get some exercise, maybe."

"With all due respect, sir, I'd rather not. If I leave the work, I'll most likely forget where I left off. I'm close, I can feel it! I just need a bit more time."

Brackenreid patted the young mans' shoulder. "I admire your work ethic, but no Constable should be working on an empty stomach. Take a break and eat."

James pulled open a drawer and pulled out a small bag, setting it on top of the desk. He then took out a ham sandwich and took a bite out of it. Brackenreid couldn't help but feel like the boy was being sassy. "I'll get my exercise when I'm out on patrol, tonight, sir."

Yup, definitely being sassy. He decided to let it slide, though. "Actually, Quilleran, one of our Constables had to go home. He was sick with a cold. He was originally supposed to be patrolling the Harbour, and we can't leave a single copper out there alone."

James swallowed and looked up at the Inspector. "I can take the shift if there's nobody else who will, sir."

"You're sure you don't mind?"

"I don't have anything better to do. Besides, it's all part of the job."

"Good man."

/ / /

James banged his head on his desk, letting out a soft little groan. "What am I missing?" He grumbled.

He had gone through the rest of the box in about an hour, and he still didn't find anything of significance in the clippings! He _knew_ there was something important that he was missing, but he couldn't find it! It was bothering him to an extensive degree. He hated leaving something incomplete.

The paper bag that had contained his lunch tipped over and rested on top of his head. With a low growl, he grabbed the paper bag and crumpled it up, tossing it into the trash can by his desk. If he was going to take his anger out on something, it may as well be the bag!

Something floated down from his desk and he grabbed it out of the air. Another article. He then looked on top of his desk to see a blank spot where his lunch bag had been sitting. Must have been covering it up.

Although James didn't doubt he had read it already, he decided to scan over the article.

He then read it fully. Then again, and again.

He then started reading various articles on his desk, glancing from the articles on the table to the article he held in his hand. This was it! All this time, he thought he was being stupid, but no! His stupid lunch bag had been covering the answer the whole time!

James grabbed several articles from his desk and dashed over to the Detective's office. "Sir, I think I got it!"

Before William could say anything, James placed the articles on top of his work desk and started lining them up. "So, Gerald Horowitz is possibly dead, right?" He pointed to the first article in the lineup. "As stated here. Although, his body was never found."

James pointed to the second one. "A property was purchased about five years ago out in the country-side." He then pointed to an article he placed below it. "A woman was murdered out around a farmland close to where the home was purchased. There was a cross cut into her chest just above her heart. The land-owner of the farm was questioned, but he was not the killer."

James pushed those off to the side and pointed to the next article. "A cottage out in the bush had been purchased two years later. Different home-owner. A few months afterwards," He pointed to the article below it. "A young man is murdered at the cottage a few miles down. He also had a cross cut above his heart. The murderer wasn't found." He pushed those articles aside. "A little over a year later, another home was purchased by the river. A different home-owner, once again. Two men were murdered there, same crosses over their hearts, but the owner of the home wasn't found, neither was the murderer."

William raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Yes, I see the pattern, but the murder victims had no calling cards of Gerald Horowitz."

"Why do you think that may be? Who would continue to use an old calling card if they've been found once?"

William nodded. "But how does this help us find the murderer?"

"Remember the pond we had found the body in?"

"Yes."

James finally pulled out the last two articles, one about a week old, and the other being in the morning paper. "This article states that a small shack had been purchased, about four acres of land." He pointed to the morning article. "And we found the body of a woman in a pond."

"What sort of significance does that have, James?"

He showed one of the photos of the dead woman. "She has a cross over her heart as well." James smiled and placed the photo on the table on top of the map. "Sir, what are the chances of homes being purchased, murders happening close to the homes, and then the owner moving out shortly afterward? This could be our killer!"

James pulled a map from his back pocket and laid it out on the table. He pointed at a small area just outside of Toronto. "Here's the home that was purchased a week ago, sir." He dragged his finger along the map to a small body of water. "Here is the pond where we found the body, about two miles south. Just enough space to make the owner of the shack as innocent as a lamb."

It finally all made sense to William! Of course, it may not be Gerald Horowitz, but it's still a murderer on the loose. The whole time, all he was looking for was news about Gerald Horowitz and his calling cards, but he didn't consider looking for other patterns as well! There was also enough time between the murders to make them seem random, and not serial. "Well done, James!"

/ / /

"Don't worry. The murderer may not know we're on his trail. We know what to look for, as well."

"If he didn't know we were on his trail, do you think he would've up and left so quickly?"

"He could've just been out."

James made a face. "You mean looking for another victim?"

Henry sighed. "You don't need to be so grim about it."

Henry could tell James wasn't exactly happy. In fact, he looked absolutely frustrated. Although he had cracked the code (or the pattern, or whatever it was), the killer wasn't at the shack that had been purchased. The Detective, Inspector, Jackson and James all waited for a couple of hours, but the killer didn't leave or come back. When they went inside, there was nobody there.

James had been silent for most of their patrol, so far, which was not what Henry was used to when patrolling around the Harbour. He preferred conversation, something to take the edge off.

"It was the stupid munch bag covering the article!" James exclaimed. "I can't believe something so simple had covered up the answer the whole time!"

Henry laughed. "Trust me, that isn't the worst that has happened. For example; one time, George had purchased this expensive pen. He had been gloating about it, so I decided to play a little prank and I hid it on him. As it turned out, the killer had used the pen to write down a note, and if I had just told George a lot sooner as to where it was, the killer would've been caught a lot sooner."

"A pen?" James asked disbelievingly.

"A pen."

"Something so simple revealing a murderer. What are the chances?"

"Pretty low, I would think."

James stopped suddenly and peered into an alley. It was very difficult for him to see, as the clouds had covered the moon. The most light that the two Constables were given were from the streetlamps. Even then, it was still hard to see. The alleys in the Harbour had no light at all, so that made it a lot worse for James. "What is it?"

James stared into the alley for a few more moments before shaking his head. "Thought I heard something."

"Probably a raccoon or something." Henry said. "Nothing to worry about."

James shivered and rubbed at his one arm. "Maybe. Could just be the aura of the Harbour, too. It's a bit creepy, once you think about it."

"Any part of the city is creepy at night. It's too quiet, for my tastes."

"Mhm."

James shook his head and walked away from the alley, something at the back of his mind still screaming for him to investigate. Rarely was his instinct ever wrong, but this time he ignored it. Toronto could be a scary city in the evenings and he always felt like someone was watching him, no matter what the occasion was. He would try to shake off that paranoia as best as he could for the sake of his job, but that didn't mean it wouldn't still get to him.

Their boots would crunch against the loose pebbles on the stony path, filling in the awkward silence that stretched between them. George was a chatty man, not that James minded, and he filled in the silence that would normally plague a night out patrolling. Henry, he was another story. Either he still didn't trust James, or he was just a strong, silent type. Either way, it was bugging him. "So, were you born in Toronto?"

Henry shook his head. "No, actually, I was born in Newfoundland."

He furrowed his brows. "You don't seem to have the accent for it."

"Well, I was born in Newfoundland, but I didn't grow up there for my whole life." Henry stated. "And, to be frank, I could say the same about your accent. You said you were raised born in Alberta and raised in Quebec, but you don't have a French accent."

James shrugged. "I had to learn French, most certainly, but because my parents were both raised in Alberta, we spoke English around the house. None of us developed the French accent."

"And what brought you to Toronto?"

"Family troubles." He quickly replied. "About ten years ago. After my mother was put in the asylum. Father had to provide for us, somehow, so we came to Toronto. Of course, here, my father was caught and sent back to Alberta, where he was hanged for the crimes he committed. That left us both struggling to survive."

Henry was about to ask something else before closing his mouth. Did he hear James correctly? "'Us'? Was there someone else in your family?"

James suddenly tripped over a stone, just barely catching himself before he fell. Was he really so daft as to let that slip out?! "Uh, well, that is to say-"

A sudden shriek cut him off and James breathed an internal sigh of relief. Saved by whatever was happening!

The two Constables immediately took off running towards where they had heard the scream, hoping they weren't too late. Muggings down in the Harbour were dangerous and a lot quicker compared to muggings in the rest of Toronto. And a lot more violent. Henry remembered when he and Jackson had been patrolling around the Harbour, once. They had heard someone scream bloody murder, but it was almost immediately cut off. By the time they had arrived, the young man was dead.

James suddenly turned down a corner. "This way!" He shouted, jumping over a stack of crates that blocked the path. Henry skidded along the ground before taking off down the path that James had taken, jumping over the same stack of crates.

Henry looked up in time to see James run directly into another man, using his shoulder to ram into his chest. The man audibly wheezed and fell to the ground, where James tried holding him down. "Check down the next alley!" He shouted. "The victim may still be there!"

Henry ran past the two men and turned around the corner, stopping at the entrance to the alley. He looked around, completely confused.

The alley was empty. No crates, no trash cans, not even a rat or dog or cat. And there wasn't even a victim, or a body. Something wasn't right about this.

Henry turned back around, jogging over to James and the supposed mugger. "There's nobody there, James." He called out.

He looked up, completely confused. "What?" His grip on the man below him loosened. "How is that possible?"

The mugger used this opportunity to his advantage. Kicking him with his knee, he pulled out a knife from his pocket. With a vicious growl, he stabbed the Constable in his stomach, pushing him from his body. "Damned coppers!" He spat, straddling himself over James. He reared back his hand, ready to strike again.

Henry delivered a swift punch to the mans' jaw, then kicking him off from on top of James. The mugger hit his head off the stone path, knocking himself out and dropping the knife beside him

James gasped heavily, clenching his teeth as he held back a scream. He placed a shaking hand over the bleeding wound, trying to apply as much pressure as possible to it. He has been hurt before, gone through a lot worse pain, but why was this single wound hurting _so much_?! He crawled backwards and leaned back against a lamppost, taking deep and slow breaths.

Henry dropped down to his knees beside the Constable. "James, just stay calm!"

"What in God's name happened here?!"

Henry looked over his shoulder to see a young woman walking out from her home, which was now lit up with candles. "Ma'am, call Station House four; it's an emergency! Tell them there's been a mugging!"

"And call for Doctor Ogden as well!" James quickly added.

The woman immediately retreated back into her home, presumably to call the police. He immediately turned his attention back to James, who was starting to shy away from him. "Don't touch me." He gasped. "I'm fine!"

"You've been stabbed, James!"

"Only a flesh wound."

Henry rolled his eyes. "If we don't take care of it right now, you'll bleed out before any real medical help arrives!"

James shot a deathly glare at him. "I'm applying pressure!"

Henry removed James' hands from the wound to see a growing spot of blood. "Not enough, evidently!"

He suddenly removed James' belt started unbuttoning his coat, which only made James try to back up further. "No, I'm fine!" He pushed at his hands. Henry ignored the younger man and continued to remove the buttons. "We need to put as much pressure on the wound as possible, and that means removing the coat! Just put aside whatever personal insecurities you have and-"

As he removed the last button and pushed the coat aside, his sentence was cut off as he was met with an almost completely bare chest. Aside from the bindings, of course. Why would a man need bindings?

Realization dawned on him and his eyes widened with shock. "You're not..."

She immediately pulled the coat back over herself and backed away from Henry. "I said I was fine..." She muttered.

* * *

 **NOTE: I had called Lucy as James and 'he' because I didn't want there to be confusion, such as James' name being said and then it would be "she responded" or something like that. Also, nobody else knew of James' secret, so Lucy was still a 'he' to everyone else. Anyways, hopefully that explains things.**


	3. Understanding

**A/N: I'm sorry if some people were a bit disappointed that James actually turned out to be a woman, but this had been the plan for a long while. If you follow me on my Tumblr, you'll understand. And now that we know who 'James' really is, he will be referred to as 'she/her' and will be called Lucy. However, nobody except for Henry and Julia know about her real identity. Anyways, this chapter features just some thoughts from both Lucy and Henry. I hope y'all enjoy.**

 **Chapter Genre: General**

 **Chapter Rating: K**

 **Rating Content: Some minor alcohol consumption**

* * *

He had, miraculously, stayed silent for the ride back to the Station House. Perhaps it was because Julia was in the wagon with them. Or perhaps he just needed to wrap his head around it. Either way, Lucy was most grateful for his silence.

Once they had gotten back to the Station House, Julia wanted Lucy in the morgue to check up on 'things'. She also requested Henry to be there as well, as she would need his 'help'. Of course, Lucy knew better. She knew Julia wanted to talk to Henry, hopefully to keep him from ratting her out to the Detective or, heaven forbid, the Inspector.

Lucy lied on one of the tables as Julia stitched up her wound. Henry tried to look anywhere _but_ where the two women were. Of course, James... or whatever her real name was, still had the bindings on, but that didn't make it any better. "I'm hoping there's some explanation for this." He said, examining a somehow very interesting pipe running along the ceiling.

Julia _tsked_. "Henry, just let me get these last few stitches in. Then we'll talk."

Lucy sighed and looked at Julia, concern etched on her face. The doctor gave her a ghost of a smile, an attempt to reassure her. "You're very lucky. If he had cut open the wound a little wider, you would very likely be dead."

"I'd have thought that he damaged something vital." Lucy replied.

Julia gave a slight shrug and sighed, tying off the last stitch. "Well, he just narrowly missed your small intestine, if that satisfies your curiosity."

Lucy grabbed the spare shirt from the small cart beside the table, slipping it over her head. "Anything I should know?" She asked. "You know; 'no strenuous activities' and the like?"

"I'll let the Inspector know you can't do too many physical assignments for about a week." Julia said.

"Is she going back to work, though?"

The two women looked to Henry, who had his arms crossed and was leaning against the railing. "She's a woman. She shouldn't be working as a copper in the first place."

Julia washed her bloodied hands in a bowl. "She is just as capable as any man working in the Station House, Henry, regardless of her sex."

"Why not find a job elsewhere, though? Something more in her... area."

She looked to Lucy as she wiped her hands off on a towel. "I'm afraid that's something only she can answer."

Henry looked to the woman expectantly, waiting for an answer. For whatever reason, however, nothing came out. "I could go to the Inspector about this..." He threatened, not daring to look away from her.

That immediately garnered a response. She glared pure daggers at him, a snarl curling her lips. "And put me out on the streets? I'd truly love to see you try, Higgins!"

"Surely there's another job you can get." He said. "I heard a few places in Toronto are hiring."

"You don't think I've tried those places already?" Lucy snapped. "Didn't you listen to what I told you yesterday? My family name is feared and hated in Toronto." She sighed and crossed her legs underneath her, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. "I tried getting a job in other places, but they all turned me down. Every last one. One store owner even had the gall to say to me, 'I don't want a Quilleran working in my store, least of all a woman. I don't want my customers thinking I've gone insane as well'."

"Surely not all of them thought that, though!"

Lucy looked up, tears threatening to escape from her eyes. "'To society, you are a woman. A creature. Your mother's daughter'. My brother told me this, and he sure as hell was right. If I didn't have the name 'Quilleran', I wouldn't have to be working here."

Henry's brows furrowed in confusion. "Well, why doesn't your brother get a job?"

"Because James is dead, Higgins. Has been for years. So is my father. And my mother? Still off in the loony bin, I suppose." She sniffled. "I'm the last one in my family line. There's nobody else to provide for me, so I had to provide for myself."

"Did you not have family who would take you in?"

Julia sat herself on top of one of the tables, waiting patiently for them to finish their little discussion. Of course, she knew almost everything about Lucy and her motives for becoming a Constable, but it wasn't her place to tell people. If Lucy felt comfortable enough, she would tell people about her past.

"You're smart, you figure it out." She snapped.

Henry was starting to become impatient with the woman. She was being almost vague with her answers, which were leading almost nowhere in the first place. He also still didn't understand how she was able to take her brother's name, despite him being dead. Wouldn't that be in the records? Who was she, anyways? He didn't recall Leonard and Mary Quilleran having a daughter. "Well, could you at least tell me your name, then?"

She huffed. "My name is Lucy Quilleran." She stood from the table, a defiant look in her eyes. "My story is mine to tell. And my story is what you'll _never_ know, until you have earned the right to know it."

Henry was about to ask something else before Julia quickly stepped in. "She's most likely still in some shock from the attack." She explained. "She has been through a lot, Henry. I've known her for years and this is the only job she could find. If you could... perhaps just give her a chance?"

He considered her for a moment. If what James - or Lucy - was saying was true, then he really had no good reason to go to the Inspector about this. But a lady shouldn't be working in a man's job! He then thought about Winnifred Pink; she was a detective of sorts and she seemed alright in her area of work. He respected her, so why couldn't he respect Lucy all the same?

Henry sighed, finally defeated. "If you get caught by the Inspector-"

"I won't." Lucy interrupted. "And if I do, you were never part of this conversation."

/ / /

"Quilleran, good to see you in one piece!"

"I'm tougher than you think, sir."

The Inspector chuckled. "Well, the Doctor told me not to work you too hard, so no more patrolling around the Harbour until you're all healed up."

"Thank you, sir."

His smile disappeared. "You can stop calling me 'sir' so often."

"Sorry, si-" Lucy quickly stopped in her sentence, clearing her throat and licking at her lips. "Sorry, it's reflex."

"Don't worry, they burn that into you as you're trained." Brackenreid then set a large file onto Lucy's desk. "Got some more paperwork for you."

Lucy sat down and examined the label on the file. 'Zachary Fishbach'. "And by 'paperwork', you mean criminal files?"

"Exactly. What you need to look for is if this man has ever been recorded working with someone else." He patted her shoulder. "Good luck."

She opened the file and quickly flipped through the papers. "Quite the resume..." She joked to herself.

She immediately went straight to work on the file, taking out various sheets and spreading them out across her desk. She found one mugshot of the man in the file and immediately recognized him as the one who had mugged her the previous evening.

Lucy, briefly remembering the events that had transpired, looked up to see that Henry wasn't at his desk. She breathed a sigh of relief. Probably has a day off, she thought.

She had nearly had a heart attack after Henry threatened to tell the Inspector about her little secret. However, although she didn't know the man very well, she knew that _any_ man with a conscience wouldn't put an innocent person, least of all a woman, out onto the streets. She didn't tell him too much of her past, but she thought he might've understood. _Might_ have.

She shook her head and resumed her work. No sense in dwelling on it now. If Henry told the Inspector, then she could easily travel off somewhere else. Maybe Ottawa would be a little more forgiving of her family history. Or perhaps she could go back home to Alberta, she hasn't visited for so long.

Lucy blinked rapidly and shook her head. Why was she thinking all this? Did she really think he'd go back on his word? Did she really think she was in that much trouble?

She growled to herself and resumed to pull the various sheets out from the file. She had to stay focused. If this man really did have an accomplice, then it'd be best to find out about it now rather than later.

/ / /

He still had a hard time wrapping his head around it. James - no, _Lucy_ \- had been posing as a man. How did she not get caught during training? And, if her brother is dead, wouldn't there be records of him? Wouldn't there have been a funeral? Wouldn't there be other people who at least _knew_ that he was dead?

Henry took another sip of the whiskey, grimacing at the familiar burn as it slid down his throat. Normally, he wouldn't go for such a strong drink, especially since he had to work the next day, but he needed it.

He held nothing against women, of course. He respected them, but he just thought it was improper for a lady to be working in an area that men traditionally worked in. Especially in an area that was particularly dangerous. Just look at what had happened the previous evening!

Well, to be fair, she _had_ been distracted, namely by him. If that hadn't have happened, he was certain she wouldn't have been stabbed. Regardless, it was still dangerous.

Henry brought the glass to his lips and tilted it, only to find it was empty. He sighed and set it back down, tempted to order another. He didn't want to end up completely drunk, though. So, he decided to head home to sleep it off.

He left money on the bar and slid (or, slipped, really) off the stool and walked out of the pub, shivering as the cold night air hit his skin. As he walked back to his apartment, he continued to get lost in his thoughts about Lucy.

He was still curious as to what her background was. Sure, he already knew about her father and mother and brother, but he felt like there was more to the story than what he already knew, or what she had already told him. It was an instinct he had, most likely passed down to him by his mother. She always knew whenever Henry wasn't telling the whole truth about something.

He remembered what Lucy had told him. _'My story is what you'll_ never _know, until you have earned the right to know it.'_.

Perhaps he just would have to spend some time with her, then. Get to know her better, gain some of her trust. He wouldn't pry, of course, as that would just be rude. Her past might also be something that is particularly sensitive, so all the more reason not to ask directly.

He opened the door to the apartment and quickly closed it behind him. He was grateful that his room was only on the first floor, because he was already tipsy and he didn't want to end up hitting his head off of something.

There was a chance that Lucy might not want to talk to him at all. About anything. That would be somewhat annoying, but if it ever came to that, then he would respect her privacy.

He fiddled around with the key briefly before finally unlocking the door. Once inside, he tossed the key onto the desk and proceeded to remove his casual clothing. First the jacket. It was alright, but it didn't block out the spring cold like it should have. Maybe it was soon time for a new one, it _was_ a few years old. He had gotten it as a gift from his mother, but even with as fine of material as it was made from, it could still get worn out.

His mother. Maybe she would give him some good insight on Lucy. Maybe get an opinion from a woman with a good sense of propriety. But he wouldn't try and write a letter at this hour, or even call her. She always told him that he could call whenever, but he decided against it this time. He was half drunk and wouldn't make much sense anyways. Maybe the next time he had a day off he could visit her.

Replacing his pants with looser fitting ones, he collapsed onto the bed with a heavy sigh. Why was he so obsessed with Lucy? He had made a promise and he wouldn't go back on it, of course, but he had never been in a situation like this before. If she got caught, he knew he would feel guilty somehow. Not his fault if she got caught, but he would still feel guilty.

Henry rolled over onto his side. He was too tired to actually crawl under the sheets, so he just grabbed one of them and pulled it over his body, curling up slightly. Perhaps if he slept on it, he would be able to think a little bit better.

To sleep, perchance to dream... He thought.


	4. Lost and Found

**A/N: I'm hoping that my school won't get in the way of me typing up chapters now that everything is back in order (and vice versa, of course) so chapters will be pouring out. Hopefully... Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy!**

 **RuthieGreen: I'm so glad that you're enjoying this story. And thank you so much for the compliments!**

 **Chapter Genre: Mystery, Family**

 **Chapter Rating: K+**

 **Rating Content: Brief Mild Language, Brief Mild Violence**

* * *

Lucy let out a loud huff as she packed up to head home. It had been probably one of the most stressful days of her life, and that said something! They managed to find the man who worked alongside Zachary, who's name was David Beckham, but he had run as soon as he saw the coppers coming around. Lucy couldn't chase after him, due to her wound still being in stitches, so she had to go around to the spot which she suspected he would be running to. Of course, as it turned out, David had taken to the rooftops, which made Lucy give chase to him again and climb up an emergency ladder.

She and Jackson had barely managed to catch up to the crook, but Henry had managed to grab at his legs and pull him down before he got over a tall brick wall leading to the roof of another house..

That wasn't even the worst part! Once they got him back to the station house, he barely gave any straight answers to the Detective or the Inspector. On top of that, Zachary had managed to escape the holding cell. Nobody knew how, but he got away. And, of course, there wasn't any reason to hold David, so he had to be let go.

She huffed again. All that work for nothing.

As she was putting on her casual jacket (one made for her, but tailored to look like a man's jacket), she heard someone clear their throat.

Lucy forced herself to look a little less irritated and turned around. "Is there something you need...?" Her half-smile suddenly disappeared. "Henry..." She finished.

He was still in uniform, so she assumed he was going to be working a late shift. Henry cleared his throat again. "James, since you're, uh, new here, I was wondering if you would want to have a drink, sometime?"

She sniffed. "Why?"

Lucy wasn't dense. If she was correct, then she already knew why he wanted to 'have a drink' with her.

"Just to get to know you a little bit better."

She hit the nail _directly_ on the head with that prediction. She sighed slightly and straightened her tie. "I don't have anything better to do, I suppose. I'm off tomorrow, whenever you may be done your shift."

"I'm actually off as well, then." He said.

Lucy suppressed a sigh. "Say, around noon, then?"

Henry gave her a small smile. "Alright, then. Uh, should I come to you, or meet me at the pub?"

"At the pub." Was her rapid reply. "You don't even know where I live."

"Alright then."

Lucy grabbed her fedora and placed it on her head. "See you then."

/ / /

Lucy practically slammed the door shut behind her, throwing her fedora onto the table and pulling her jacket over her head. She should've guessed that he would try to talk with her at some point! She didn't think he would want to so soon, though!

She took off her shirt, wincing at the pain in her stomach. She looked down to see the stitches, red and sore. Not infected, but good lord, she wanted to itch it so badly! But of course, she couldn't, lest she open the stitches and have to get them in again.

She was quick to remove the bindings. They weren't as tight as they were before, but she still had a hard time breathing. She had to find a better solution for her 'chest problem'...

As she placed the undershirt back over her, she flopped onto her couch and groaned loudly. She should've changed her name altogether instead of taking her brother's name. Then again, if she were to do that, she would most likely be asked if she was involved in any illegal activity. She'd say no, and they wouldn't believe her.

No sense in thinking about the past, she thought. For now, she needed to think about who she was going to be the next day. James, or Lucy?

James would be a more plausible idea as Henry had asked him to the pub, but Henry also was wanting to get to know _Lucy_ better. James would be better as there would be less looks of disapproval compared to Lucy.

She sighed heavily and rolled onto her side. She felt too tired to decide this in the moment. For now, she was going to sleep on it and, hopefully, she would feel rejuvenated in the morning.

/ / /

Henry was waiting patiently outside the pub, looking around for any signs of his companion.

He wasn't kidding himself; he was nervous. Not because of Lucy, but because of their 'meeting up'. He didn't know how it'd turn out, he didn't know what things offended her or didn't, what topics were sensitive and what topics weren't. Heck, he didn't even know if she was going to show up at all! He might've just made a fool of himself...

"Henry Higgins."

He was shaken from his thoughts as someone called out to him. He turned his head to see a young woman walking towards him. She was quite stunning, actually; long, elegant blonde hair, wavy and almost curly. It was pulled back into a ponytail, but some locks still were hanging in front of her ears (and there was a small ringlet hanging just in front of her eyes). She had such elegant curves, which were accentuated by the corset-like dress she was wearing.

The dress, all on its own, was stunning; a creamy-white blouse was the main part of the dress. There were creamy-white frills on the shoulders, tipped with the palest of pinks. The corset piece of the dress was beige in colour, tied together with a dark string. The bottom-half of the dress was also beige, but the bottom hem was lined with almost strange designs.

It wasn't until she got closer that he was able to get a better look at her face. It was very soft, with just a few sharper edges along her jawline. Her eyes almost took his breath away; her lashes were long, dark and curled upward, which accentuated her bronze eyes. They looked so soft, so tender, he felt like he could get lost in them.

Henry snapped back into reality and smiled politely at the young woman. "Hello, miss."

She smiled in return. Such a beautiful smile, he thought. Her lips were full and luscious, and he spotted the faintest of rosy colours on them. "Are you waiting for someone?" She asked him.

He nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Although, they have yet to arrive."

The woman's smile immediately disappeared, turning into a mild frown and her one eyebrow raised in an inquisitive manner. "Oh?"

Henry's brows furrowed in confusion. He took another moment to look the woman over. He didn't recognize her. At all. Should he have? He looked into her eyes one last time. That look, he thought, why did it seem so familiar to him? Eyebrow raised, lips in a small frown. Bronze eyes...

Bronze. Bronze... _BRONZE_! Those eyes; they weren't bronze at all! It was the light of the sun that was making them brighter. He guessed that, if they were to move into a darker area, they wouldn't appear bronze, but more like the colour of rusted metal.

His eyes widened slightly with shock. "Lucy?"

Her slight frown turned into a smirk.

/ / /

They both were sitting at a table in the farthest corner in the pub, away from the listening ears of the other patrons. They each had a pint of alcohol, his was already half empty and hers wasn't even close to being such. When he looked at her glass, he could see the light lipstick stain.

"I'll admit, it was difficult to recognize you. You just look so different."

Lucy shrugged her shoulders, taking a small sip from her drink. "It's truly a wonder how much a woman can change with just makeup and hair. And a voice change, of course."

Henry didn't notice at first, but once he thought of it, Lucy's voice _was_ more feminine compared to her James counterpart. James' voice had more of a monotone ring, and Lucy's... it was elegant, to say the least. "I am curious, Lucy; how did you manage the hair? And your voice?"

She laughed slightly. "It's a wig, Henry. I can't have long hair as a constable. And my voice?" She cleared her throat. "All it takes is a change in pitch."

She sounded like James, just then. A change in pitch, he thought. For women, he guessed it would be easier to change from a feminine to masculine pitch. He chuckled. "Sounds easy."

"It's not, Henry." She chided him. "It's hard to be a woman in a man's world. Even with my hair short, even without makeup, even without a feminine voice, it can be difficult to pass as a man."

His brows furrowed. "But... aside from the bindings, there isn't much that is needed to be covered-"

"Hips, Henry!" She interrupted. "All women have at least some form of an hourglass figure. And we walk differently than men do. I have to walk so my hips don't sway, I have to keep my shoulders squared, my posture proper, I have to stay in shape to keep up with the rest of the Station House. If it wasn't for the standard Constable's jacket, I would have a much harder time hiding who I am. The belt doesn't help, either."

Henry had never really considered all of those things. At all, actually. He never would've thought of a woman wanting to pass as a man, before, so he never really considered the complications of a woman trying to pass as one. But, it all made sense. But there was one thing that didn't make sense.

"Why take a job as a Constable?" He asked. "I remember you telling me you had... complications in getting one. But there are other jobs that you could have had as a man."

Her eyes suddenly looked incredibly sad. "It pays well, for starters. But, I also took the job because I want the name 'Quilleran' to have a different meaning. I'm wanting to change my family name, Higgins. I'm the last of my line and, if I were to die, I want my family to be remembered for at least _one_ good thing done right, and not just for all the bad things. Even now, I'm getting these disapproving stares, these looks of fear and disappointment. I want that to change, Henry!"

He pursed his lips and nodded. "I understand, Lucy."

She sighed and took another sip at her drink. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be lashing out like that."

"No, it's fine." He quickly reassured her.

"Henry, fancy meeting you here!"

They both turned their heads to see George and Jackson, both in casual clothing. Henry smiled brightly at the sight of his friends. "George, Gus, good to see you two!"

Jackson nodded at Lucy, who smiled politely. "Might I ask who this is?"

"She's just a friend..." Henry told him.

Lucy rolled her eyes and laughed. "I'm Lucy. Lucy Quilleran."

George and Jackson's eyes widened slightly. "You don't happen to know a James Quilleran, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. He's my older brother. He's at home, as of now, but he already knew of our meeting here. Henry and I, that is."

She already had all of her angles covered, Henry thought. She didn't know if she wanted Jackson and George to stay off of his back, or off of hers or James'.

"James never mentioned having a younger sister." Jackson said.

Lucy shrugged slightly. "He doesn't often, really. He's a bit overprotective, considering the family name." She motioned for them to sit. "Why don't you two have a seat; we don't mind the company."

She suppressed the sigh of relief that she wanted to breathe out. Talk about 'saved by the bell', she thought. She wasn't too eager in speaking with Henry too much about herself or her past, and Jackson and George had come in just at the right time to prevent her from having to talk about too much. Of course, Henry would try to speak with her again at some point, but she knew he wouldn't try to be a nuisance; he'd respect her need for space and privacy.

Hopefully.

/ / /

"Well, I barely see the harm in him wanting to get to know you."

"He wants to know _me_ , though. Not James, he wants to get to know _Lucy_!"

Julia sighed as the younger woman paced back and forth in the living room. She had merely come over to check on the stitches and then, after she mentioned Henry, it turned into a long visit. "I still hardly see the problem, Lucy. After what he discovered... I personally would be doing the same as him in his position."

"I'm not ready to share my life story, Julia!"

"Nobody said you had to. And you don't have to lie, either. However, I doubt he'll ask too personal of questions as he's a man who respects privacy."

Lucy sighed and sat down on her chair, her elbow on the armrest and her head in her hand. "I'm a Quilleran. Henry and I were already getting looks at the Pub."

Julia shrugged slightly. "Well, it's his decision he's making. I think he knows full well what he's doing."

"I don't think he does..."

Her closing sentence, she knew. Julia placed her gloves back on her hands and stood from the couch. "Well, if you feel any pain just let me know. And if it itches, just use the ointment I gave you."

Lucy grunted in response. Julia walked out of the small home and after the door closed behind her. Lucy groaned loudly and slumped into her chair. What the hell was the next day going to bring?

She was almost praying it would bring some form of calm or peace.

/ / /

"Quilleran, I have a small job for you."

Lucy groaned mentally at the sound of the Detective's voice. "Yes, sir?"

"We have had a report of a missing person; a young boy by the name of Victor Bailey." William handed her a picture. It was indeed a young boy, almost no older than eleven years of age. Poor child... "He has been missing for approximately three days and there has been no signs of him. Jackson and George have already been asking questions around the area, but they're in need of help, I'm afraid. He was last seen around Downtown Toronto, so start there. Once you have gathered everything you can, come back to the Station."

Lucy took the photo and nodded. "Sir."

/ / /

Lucy suppressed a sigh but wrote down the information that was given to her. "Thank you for your time." She smiled politely and went back on her way.

She had long since lost count as to how many people she had questioned in Downtown. Not very many people had seen the boy, even more didn't even know who he was. It wasn't helping the case at all.

She then caught sight of two more Constables and she made their way towards them. She eventually was able to see that it was George and Jackson, both appearing to be frustrated. "No luck on your ends, either?" She asked them.

George shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. Nobody has ever really seen the boy. Not a lot know about him, either."

"Same here." Said Jackson. "Who reported him missing in the first place if nobody even knows who he is?"

Lucy shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I think we should let the Detective know what's going on."

/ / /

"So nobody has seen him so far?"

"No, sir."

"And you say not many even know who the boy is?"

"No."

Lucy raised her hand slightly. "Sir, if I may; who reported him missing in the first place? And when?"

"It was someone anonymous." William told her. "It was around noon, it sounded like a man, but we weren't certain. He didn't give his location or his name, either."

This greatly confused her. Why would someone anonymously report a missing child? "Did he have any family?" She asked.

William was about to reply but then his mouth quickly closed, his brows furrowing in confusion. "No, as a matter of fact. Not when Henry checked, at least."

A young boy reported missing by an anonymous caller, last known location in Downtown. Nobody knows who he is and nobody has seen him, no known family members. There was only one thing she could think of that gave a logical explanation.

Before Lucy could voice her thoughts, Henry knocked on William's door. "Sir?"

"What have you, Henry?"

Henry walked in and set a file folder on the Detective's desk. "On a feeling, I called into the other station houses in Toronto. As it turns out, they all received an anonymous call reporting a child missing around noon today. All being reported missing around a specific area of Toronto. Only, it's not the same child."

Lucy's eyes widened in shock. "And did you ask about who they interviewed?"

"No, but they all mentioned how nobody had even heard about these children or even seen them. And I looked in the records, there are no known family members to any of these children."

William checked the file folder that Henry dropped on his desk, briefly flipping through the various sheets, placing any photos he saw on his desk. "Henry, are you certain this information is correct?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir."

Jackson picked up on of the photos on the desk. "Sir, I've seen this girl before."

The Detective raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes, her name is Jasmine." He explained. "She frequents the area I live in. She's an orphan and homeless, but she's a sweet girl."

"Do you recognize any of the other children here?"

"No, George."

Lucy raised her hand, slightly. "Sir, if I may present a theory?"

He nodded his approval.

"Jackson's mentioning of the girl, Jasmine, being homeless and an orphan made me think. All of these children have been reported missing, all around the same time. An anonymous call, a specific last known location, but no family members, nobody knows who they are and nobody has seen them at all." She licked at her lips. "I believe all of these children are orphaned and homeless, sir."

William's eyebrows shot up. "A bold theory, Quilleran. But how can you be sure?"

"With all due respect, how else do you think nobody knows these children? When someone is homeless and without a family, they tend to be ignored in these large cities. Even when people have sympathy for them, they're nothing more than a passing face, not meant to be remembered. The same goes _especially_ for children." She crossed her arms, her eyes briefly darting to the floor, almost as if in shame. "Children aren't important to people or meant to be their problem if they don't have a home. A lot of people think they're just a drain, they have their own problems to worry about."

Henry gave Lucy a look. "You sound like you know this sort of thing first hand, James."

She resisted the urge to glare at the man. That was a statement directed at her, and not at James. "No, but I've seen it enough and heard more than enough from the homeless. There's actually a group of homeless folks I visit in downtown; lovely group, they stick together like a family."

There was a brief silence between the five of them before William quickly said, "James, I need you to go and visit that group in Downtown Toronto right now." He quickly gathered the photos and gave them to her. "Take Henry with you!"

/ / /

Lucy stopped beside an alleyway and turned to Henry. "Don't think I didn't know what you were trying to pull back in the Detective's office." She hissed. "You best not try to get to know me at work."

Henry stepped back, almost out of fear. "I was only asking a question; I didn't mean anything by it, Lucy!"

She growled and rolled her eyes. "Regardless, this group knows me personally and they know about my work as a Constable. They're like a family to me, so expect them to be friendly."

She turned into the alley, which lead to a dead end between a bunch of buildings. She removed her Constable's helmet and placed it under her arm. "Lucas? Isaac, Sarah?" She called out. "It's Lucy!"

They came into the dead end, which was actually a fairly open area. There was an array of boxes, covered in ripped sheets or tarps. And, of course, there was people. Lots of them.

Henry watched as three children ran to Lucy, one of them jumping up into her arms and another onto her leg. "Goodness, I'm getting too old for this!" She exclaimed with a laugh.

A man stood from a seat near a fire. "Kids, don't tire her out too much, she still has to work!"

The children immediately released themselves from Lucy. A little girl who was holding onto a tattered teddy bear, probably no older than seven, pointed at Henry. "LuLu, who's that?"

Lucy knelt down. "That's Henry, a man I work with."

Henry smiled politely and waved at the little girl, making her smile widely. "Hello."

The man who had stood from his seat now approached Lucy. He didn't look that much older than her, probably in his late twenties to early thirties. His hair was black in colour and it reached just past his ears. His eyes were a dark brown, and his skin was deep tan in colour. "Lucy, who is this?" He asked, pointing to Henry.

Lucy stood and rolled her eyes. "Don't worry. He's a coworker. He knows."

"That's dangerous."

"I missed you too, Dustin."

Lucy embraced the man, briefly but almost fiercely, and Henry couldn't help but feel a slight bit annoyed and maybe even jealous. He didn't know why, but he just felt that way. "Who was it that called?" She asked him. "It couldn't have been you or Lucas or even Cole."

Dustin nodded. "Yeah, it was us. We managed to find a way to call the station houses."

She quickly pulled the photos out from her pocket and handed them to him. "All of these children, are they really missing?"

The man quickly flipped through all of the photos and handed them back to her. "Yes, I'm afraid so. It happened about three days ago; they all suddenly went missing, even Victor."

"When?"

"Most likely sometime during the evening or early morning. We all woke up to find they weren't here, but we assumed they were already out and about. But they didn't come back."

Lucy sighed heavily. "Look, I understand that this is important, Dustin! I love these children dearly, but I can't do much unless you have an idea as to who took them!"

Dustin crossed his arms and glared. "There's been a group of those Irish folk down by the Harbour; they've been harassing us and threatening us for a while. I think you should start looking there."

Henry gently grabbed at Lucy's arm. "The Detective said you can't be going down by the Harbour." He reminded her. "Head back to the Station and get George or Jackson-"

"And who're you to be telling her what to do?" Dustin demanded, stepping closer to him. Lucy _tsked_ and smacked his arm. "It's fine and he's right. I got mugged down by the Harbour and I need to stay away from that area-"

"You were mugged? By whom?"

Lucy shrugged. "Some guy by the name of Zachary Fishbach. Got the jump on me, almost gutted me. I'm fine." Her brows furrowed and her head tilted to the side. "Why do you ask?"

"Some of us have been going down by the Harbour trying to earn some money, and that's where some of us had been getting mugged as well." He quickly explained. "Zachary and his gang have been roughing us up ever since."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "'His gang'?"

Dustin chuckled. "What, you think he works alone? There's about four other men he works with, and they've been threatening us, trying to keep us away from the Harbour. We can't control the children, though."

Lucy quickly pulled out her notebook and a pencil. "What are their names?"

/ / /

William nearly jumped out of his seat as his door practically slammed open and a notebook was thrown onto his desk. "Zachary and David aren't the only ones!" Lucy quickly declared, leaning heavily against his desk as she tried to regain her breath. "Turns out, there's a whole gang of them down by the Harbour; they might be the reasons for the children going missing!"

William held up a hand. "James, slow down, you can't just assume-"

"Sir, _please_ , try to understand!" She pleaded. "The homeless group has been getting threats from Zachary and his gang; it started getting heated and suddenly, now that the children are missing, they've left them alone."

William sighed and stood from his desk. "You can't be going near the Harbour. And we can't do much about things without more evidence-"

"Are you saying that because we actually need 'more evidence', or are you saying that because we got the information from a homeless man?"

The air around them was suddenly filled with a heavy tension. Lucy was angry, William was shock, and Henry was a little bit scared. He didn't know what the Detective would do or how he would handle the direct sass and disrespect from the Constable.

William finally heaved a sigh and carefully assessed the names on the notepad. "Are you certain these are accurate, Quilleran?"

"I bet my own life on it, sir."

He handed the notepad back to Lucy. "I'll send three Constables down to the Harbour to investigate the disappearances of the children-"

"I'm going as well, sir."

"Dr. Ogden would say otherwise-"

"Damn it, Murdoch!" Lucy slammed her fist down onto his desk, making both he and Henry jump in surprise. "I have known these children for years, and I'd rather burn in hell than sit back and not help find them. I don't care if I have to disobey a direct order, I don't care if you take my badge because of it; I am going to help find those children, and damn the consequences!"

Henry cringed mentally, but physically backed away from her. If she was going to hit anything else, he didn't want for it to be him.

William just stood their, dumbfounded by the Constable's outward behaviour. He had never been directly disrespected or shouted at by any of his Constables. Then again, he never recalled a case that was so personal to one of his Constables. He completely understood where James was coming from, in this case; those people, if he had really known them for all those years, they would be like a family to him. And William could very easily relate to that. He has been so close to losing the people close to him more than once and he never bothered in backing down whenever someone tried to stop him or intimidate him. Although he did not appreciate James and his behaviour, he definitely understood where he was coming from. If he got injured, however, he was going to make sure Julia did not blame him for letting James go back to the Harbour. "Very well. I'll be sending you, Jackson, George and Henry down to the Harbour to investigate the missing children. I shall also accompany you. I have no doubt that the men and women living there are going to defend Zachary and his gang, so you are permitted to bring a weapon with you, but it can only be used in self-defense and you cannot kill unless you have to. Is that clear?"

Lucy nodded. "Sir." She turned on her heel and shouted, " _Jackson, George_!"

/ / /

She handed Henry, George, William and Jackson a small portion of the photos of the children. "Jackson, since you already know Jasmine, and she knows you, be sure to keep a good eye out for her. If _anyone_ calls your name, you stop to look!"

Jackson furrowed his brows in confusion. "Don't you need these photos?"

"I already know these children." She replied. "I know them by name and face, I'll be fine."

As they approached the Harbour, they immediately drew the attention of several of the Irishmen that were working. One of them stopped with fixing a vehicle and slowly approached the five coppers, wrench in hand. "And how may we help ya's?"

"We're looking for five men." William declared, loudly enough for the rest of the people by the docks to hear. "They're part of a gang. Their leader is Zachary Fishbach."

"And, uh, what sort of reason are ye lookin' for them, eh?" The man asked, tapping the large wrench in his hand in a threatening manner. William also didn't fail to notice how a few more men approached them, but he didn't back down. They may not have earned respect after the battle on the waterfront, but they at least earned tolerance. The most that they would do was merely try to intimidate them.

"We're investigating the disappearance of about seven or eight children." Lucy stated. "Zachary and his gang are suspects as of right now."

The man with the wrench looked over to someone off to the side, but Lucy ignored it. "Well, I'm afraid we can't help ye, there." He gestured with his wrench. "Now, ye coppers may as well turn around and get goin'. We don't need anymore of yer trouble around here."

"Do you have kids, sir?"

"What's it to ye?"

Lucy grabbed the photos from William's hand and showed them to the Irishman. "These children, they're like a family to me. I've known them for so many years. How would you feel, if your own children were missing somewhere in Toronto, but the Constabulary didn't bother to help you?"

The man scoffed. "I would never ask help from you coppers. Now go home!"

Lucy stepped up so her nose almost touched his. He was almost the same height as her, she noted. "We aren't going anywhere until we find these children. You can either help us, or you can get out of the way."

George lightly tapped Lucy's shoulder. "James," He whispered. "This isn't a good idea..."

She ignored him and continued to stare the Irishman down. A terrible silence filled the Harbour, the only thing breaking it being the occasional seagull crying out. The wind blew, the water waved.

A small scuffle of feet could be heard and then a small voice called out. "Auggie!"

Jackson looked over to see a young girl running out from down a street. "Jasmine!"

Lucy looked over to her left, her eyes widening in shock.

The Irishman was quick and used the distraction to his advantage. Pushing at Lucy's chest, he swung the wrench, aiming directly for her head.

The wrench was stopped and was suddenly pulled from his hand. "I wouldn't suggest doing that again!" Henry growled, tossing the wrench away from them.

The little girl ran towards Jackson and he knelt down onto the stony ground, gathering the girl in a fierce hug. "Auggie, they tried to take me away!"

Lucy glared pure daggers at the Irishman. "You better pray your name isn't mentioned!"

"Who?" Jackson asked.

Jasmine pointed back to where she came from. "The bad men are taking them away in a carriage. They hurt Bailey!"

A man, who had most likely been chasing after Jasmine, skidded to a halt at the sight of the police officers. He quickly ran back down the street.

William placed a hand on Jackson's shoulder. "Take her back to the Station!"

Jackson nodded and scooped the young girl up while William, Lucy, George and Henry ran down the street, pushing aside anyone who may have gotten in their way. The man who had run down the street was shouting at two other men, who were forcing some children into the carriage. "The coppers are here!" He shouted at them. "We need to get going!"

They closed the door as the last child was shoved into the back, locking it with a bar of wood.

Lucy, fueled purely by rage, barreled down the street and with a vicious roar, tackled one of the men to the ground, punching him in the face. The other two men were so shocked by the sudden attack that they were completely unprepared for the other two Constables that tackled them, either pushing them to the ground or up against the carriage. Once William arrived, he pulled out his pistol and opened the back door.

There were six more children in the back of the carriage, along with Zachary Fishbach and David Beckham. "Toronto Constabulary." He stated. "You are under arrest for the assault of an officer of the law and for the kidnapping of these children."

/ / /

Jackson gave Jasmine a piece of chocolate, which she took gratefully. "Now, Jazz, the Detective is going to ask you a few questions, okay? About the men who tried to hurt you. And then you can go back home."

She nodded. "I know, Auggie."

Lucy watched as William questioned the young girl, a small frown on her face. What did those children ever do to deserve such ill treatment?

"Are you alright?"

She turned and shrugged. "Could be worse, Henry." She replied. "I could have a severe head injury from a wrench. But, thanks to you, I don't have that issue."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, really, I would've done the same for anyone else."

She raised an eyebrow. "I know. But still, you pretty much saved my life back there." She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Thank you."

George looked between the two, now curious. Henry knew James' sister, and James knows Henry knows his sister. And James' sister knows James knows Henry knows her. But... if he was reading things right, maybe James wanted to get to know Henry a little bit better in _that_ sense and vice versa.

Well, Henry's cousin was already like that, so maybe Henry was like that as well.

"When's your next day off?" Lucy asked.

"End of the week."

"The Tipsy Ferret?"

"Sure."

"See you then."

Lucy walked away, patting George on the shoulder. "Thanks for the help."

George watched as she walked away, and then looked back to Henry. Maybe they _were_ wanting to get to know each other that way!


	5. Friends and Alcohol

**A/N: We got to meet a different side of Lucy's family in the last chapter (although they are not related by blood). You'll be finding out more as the story goes along about who they are and how she knows them.**

 **Ruthie: Yea, Henry is gonna have a harder and harder time with knowing Lucy's secret lol - but trust me, it'll all work out in the end!**

 **Chapter Genre: Friendship**

 **Chapter Rating: K**

 **Rating Content: No Warnings Apply**

* * *

"Well, I'm sorry, but if you continue to push yourself the way you have for the past week, you'll have to stay home until those stitches heal. You opened them once, you can't open them again!"

Lucy crossed her arms, much like a pouting child would, and rolled her eyes. "I _had_ to run after them, what'd you expect me to do? Life as a Constable isn't always going to be desk work for me."

A few days had passed since the 'Missing Children' case and when they had gotten back to the Station, nobody failed to notice the dark stain on her jacket. When Lucy went to Julia, it turned out that running and tackling one of the men to the ground had caused her stitches to open back up. Julia had warned her against chasing any criminals again, which only lasted until the end of the week.

Julia sighed and washed her hands in the small tub of water. "I know, Lucy, but at least _try_ to take it a bit easier. You may have been through a lot, but you're not invincible."

Lucy hopped off of the table and sighed, putting her Constable's jacket back on. "I know. Now, I'm meeting with Henry tonight, so I best go home and get ready."

The doctor raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh? A date?"

" _No_!" She shouted. Lucy flinched at her own sudden outburst and shook her head. "No. He's saved my life twice, so I owe it to him to have a more... decent conversation, at least."

She smiled. "Well, I wish you luck, then."

/ / /

Henry was there first, of course. Waiting for Lucy... or James. It really didn't matter at this point, he knew the both of them (or, how they looked). He felt obligated to be there first, because if she came as, well, Lucy, then it would be rude to keep a lady waiting. He felt like he had to be the gentleman.

"Henry."

He looked to see Lucy walking up to him. Well, James. Heavens, if he kept thinking of the two names at once, he was bound to let something slip up at some point whenever he spoke! She was in a casual outfit, tailored to look like a man's suit. No makeup, no wig to make her look like she had long hair, no dress.

She wasn't wearing her costume, but she was still in disguise.

He smiled. "James, glad to see you made it!"

Lucy smiled in return. "No sense in keeping you waiting. We planned a meeting, better keep to it."

Henry leaned in slightly. "No costume this time?" He whispered.

"It's been a rough week and I need a few good, stiff drinks." She replied. She then dropped her voice. "Not very lady-like to get drunk, is it?"

He laughed. "Fair point."

/ / /

"So, you had to move to Quebec because of your father?"

Lucy downed the rest of her drink almost instantly. "Yes. He... murdered someone important, I guess. We moved from Alberta to Quebec when I was about seven years old. That's when we had to learn the 'native language', as my brother called it."

"You speak French?"

Lucy smiled. " _Oui, monsieur_. _Parlez-vous français aussi_?"

Henry smiled brightly. His mother had come from Quebec so he knew a fair amount of French (although, time had gotten the better of him and he didn't speak it quite as fluently). He was glad that there was someone else he knew who spoke French who wasn't his boss or someone superior to him. " _Oui, monsieur_!"

"Did your mother teach you French?"

He nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact. When I was young she started to teach me French. Most of it has become lost on me, but I understand and know enough to carry some form of conversation."

The waitress came around and took the empty glasses from them. "Another pint for you and your friend, hon?" She asked Lucy.

She nodded. "Of course."

The waitress smiled and turned on her heel to the bar. Lucy's smile disappeared and she breathed out. Henry couldn't help but smirk. "I think she has an eye for you, _James_."

She rolled her eyes at the man. "I get that a lot. A lot of women seem to prefer the sweet, innocent-looking men lately."

"And you're okay with that?"

"I'm not interested in women, if that's what you mean." Lucy set her hands on the table and shrugged her shoulders. "But if you mean I'm okay with women flirting with me, then yes and no. As a man, I have to set aside the fact I am a woman lest I appear as a homosexual man to them. But I'm not a homosexual woman, either."

The waitress came back with two more glasses of alcohol for them and she smiled again at Lucy before going off to serve someone else.

Henry decided to change the subject. "So, how did you end up here in Toronto?" He asked.

"My father." Was her curt reply. "I don't know if it was because he had a problem, but he couldn't stop killing. We were almost forced into Ontario, and we got here to Toronto. This is where my mother finally took a stand against my father."

"And... what happened?"

Lucy seemed to hesitate. "He accused her of being mentally insane. The rumour spread quickly and after my father framed my mother for a murder, our 'lawyer' had plead her to be insane. It saved her from the noose, but it sent her into a lifetime at the asylum. That left me, the woman of the house, to try and care for the family while James tried to find a job."

Henry had never thought much about Lucy's family history; he only ever knew about the notoriety of the Quilleran name and how it was 'bad blood'. He never considered once about what could have really happened and never once had he considered asking James (or Lucy, in this case) about her side of the story. Not only did he feel sadness for what she had gone through, but now he also felt guilty for ever thinking so ill about her in the first place. "God, Lucy, that's _terrible_! Did you tell anyone else about what happened?"

She shrugged and took a sip of her drink. "Who would believe me? Lucy Quilleran, daughter of a murderer and a crazy woman. At least _I_ know, and that's good enough for me. I know my mother isn't insane and, whenever I visit her, it's probably the most normal of conversations we ever have. Without my father around, we can breathe. Although, it sometimes can be a bit dreary without my brother around..."

It's good that she's visiting at least, Henry thought. There was one thing that was nagging at him, however. "You said your brother was dead; how exactly did he come to die? I mean, was he sick? Was he that much older than you?"

She immediately shook her head. "No. We were twins, so it wasn't his age, and he was far from being sick." Lucy hesitated, looking almost conflicted. "And, I don't... think that I'm... _ready_ for this conversation. Neither are you, for that matter."

Henry nodded. "I understand."

She stared off, then, looking to be in deep thought. Her brows furrowed and her grip on the glass tightened. It was most likely a sensitive, and painful, topic for her to discuss so, unless she brought it up, he wouldn't bother her about it any further.

Once she finally snapped back into reality, Lucy smiled. "Well, no sense in letting our drinks go to waste! The night is still young, and so are we!"

Raising their glasses, they took one deep swig of their drinks.

/ / /

"You know, if you couldn't drink that much, then maybe you shouldn't have tried."

Henry groaned loudly and rubbed his temple.

As the night progressed, Lucy and Henry would continue to drink and talk about the past and even the present, occasionally the future. About who they were, who they are, and who they could be. Sometimes there were random bits of conversation about nothing, sometimes about hobbies or past-times or even work. As the night progressed, Henry also started to get drunk whereas Lucy had not.

Well, she _was_ drunk, but hardly to the extent that Henry was. She had drank more alcohol than he did and yet she appeared to be able to walk in a straight line!

Lucy wasn't about to leave him to find his home on his own, all things considering, so she was going with him. His memory served him well, but there was a chance that thugs and muggers could easily take advantage of a drunk man. Lucy was thankful that neither of them had to work the next day, because they _both_ were going to end up with a headache in the morning!

"How can you..." He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the dizziness that suddenly hit him. "Drink that much...?"

"I had to live as a man for years. I need to learn to drink." Was her quick reply.

Despite that he nodded like he understood, Henry actually barely heard what she had said.

Once they neared a building, Henry turned into the pathway that lead up to the main doors. It looked to be almost like a large apartment complex. It wasn't smack-dab in the middle of the city, so it was a bit quieter than most areas of Toronto.

They were barely able to make it up the stairs, even just past his doorway, and it took a lot of effort to get him to his bed. Lucy had looked around his apartment; it was nice, all things considering. Wasn't shabby, but also wasn't luxurious. It was average.

"Should you be walking by yours-self?" Henry asked, his speech somewhat being slurred.

Lucy rubbed at her temples and nodded. "I'll be fine. You just rest up."

Humming in response, his eyes fell shut and a deep sigh escaped him. Lucy turned and left his apartment, careful as to _quietly_ close the door behind her. Then, with only a slight stumble in her feet, she headed back down the stairs and back out onto the street. It was going to be a long walk back to her home, but she knew she wouldn't be passing out before she got there.

She was just grateful that she didn't have to go and work the next day. _That_ would've been interesting...

/ / /

Lucy had a hard time with her key, but she managed to get the door open. Closing the door behind her, she immediately began to discard her men's clothes, carelessly tossing them to the floor until she was left in nothing but her undergarments and her overshirt. She felt hungry, but she felt far too tired to make anything.

For a Constable, she thought, who can handle tackling men twice her size, she can hardly walk a few blocks without sweating.

She sighed heavily and plunked herself onto her couch, once again, too tired to make her way to her bed. Although it would have been more comfortable for her, she knew sleep was not going to be very easy for her this evening. After that question that Henry suddenly brought up at the pub, memories were brought back up. Bad memories, ones she wanted to keep away and did so for so many years.

What had happened to her brother still haunted her. It often plagued her dreams, her thoughts, like it was trying to drive her crazy. Lucy chuckled. "Ironic..." She said to herself.

Julia had once said it could be some form of post-traumatic-stress-disorder, but Lucy had merely shook her head. "Post-trauma is for soldiers," she had said, "who have seen murder, bloodshed and innocent people being senselessly killed. What happened to me, was nothing more than a nightmare come true. I'll get over it."

She had said that to the doctor nearly five years ago. And she still hadn't gotten over it. Not even a little.

Still, she didn't want Julia watching over her like some wounded puppy. She was a strong, independent woman. She didn't need anyone.

Lucy yawned widely and stretched out on her couch, her eyes falling shut and her heart slowing to a steady rhythm. With a deep, heavy sigh, sleep finally overcame her.


End file.
